The Past Revisited
by I Feel Possessed
Summary: After a disastrous operation, the past comes back to haunt Callen when he and Deeks are kidnapped. Set around season 3-4. (No pairings and with more Callen than Deeks.
1. Chapter 1

_A dozen monitors flickered with images secured from cameras hidden strategically in two rooms. The woman observing the six screens covering the living room rested her chin in her hands as she stared thoughtfully at her unconscious prisoner. He had been out cold for several hours and if he didn't show signs of life soon, she may be forced to intervene. _

_She turned her attention to the screens on her left which showed the second prisoner. He had put up one hell of a fight, disarming two of her men and damaging a third. She had stood in the shadows, watching her men fail in what should have been a simple operation and had fired a bullet, grazing the determined man's forearm. As he grabbed his arm, her fourth man punched him to the ground, and gave him a frustrated kick for good measure. Still conscious, the second prisoner had been bound and a hood placed over his head. Both men had been loaded into separate unmarked vans and driven in different directions to arrive at the same location. They had been carried through different entrances of the same house and placed in separate rooms. Neither knew the other had been captured or that they were being held in the same location. _

Deeks had been dragged to a ground floor room, still struggling to break free from the handcuffs which bound his wrists. He'd been dropped twice on the way through before being dumped heavily on his back. He had lain winded and quiet, hearing the door close and a lock turn. Footsteps melted into the distance. After a momentary pause, he had pushed his hands into the floor and forced himself into a sitting position. The hood still loosely covered his head and he leant forwards, moving his head from side to side to force the item off. Slowly he surveyed his surroundings; the room was pitch-black. Even though his eyes were already adjusted to the dark, there were no objects for him to make out. Twisting round, Deeks manipulated himself into a standing position, muttering that the walls were not closing in on him. And to prove it, he had taken five paces forward before bumping in to a wall. He turned and paced again, this time counting seven paces. He turned again and repeated the act, smiling to re-assure himself that the walls were definitely not moving. With his back against the wall, he then walked sideways until he encountered a corner, repositioned himself and paced again. Seven paces. He had repeated the ritual until he was convinced he was in a square room with no windows and one door without an internal handle.

Finding the edge of the door, Deeks contemplated whether to shout for help. The pros were someone good might hear and come to his rescue – hopefully his team. The cons, well alerting the bad guys that he was ready for whatever they could throw at him.

He shook his head and said, "Well, here goes...Hello, is anybody there? HELP!"

He had repeatedly shouted on and off for what felt like an hour but been met with silence. No sounds could be discerned, and with a dry throat he had eventually slumped to the floor. With his head rested on his bent knees he wondered what had happened to Kensi, Sam and Callen. Had they all been captured, wounded or even killed? Or had _he_ just been unlucky and the team were already donning their gear to launch a rescue.

_The woman had observed Deeks from the monitors. He had been held captive in the room for little over an hour and seemed to have exhausted himself. She remembered how much he loved the sound of his own voice and it had come as no surprise at how vocal his attempts at attracting attention had been. She was somewhat pleased at the coincidence that her other captive was still unconscious yet so close by. Although sound carried further in the still of the night, Deeks' room was sound-proofed, until she decided otherwise. Her other prisoner's room was purpose-built for escape. Although she understood exactly how resourceful both men were and had always been, it was her desire for Callen to experience the optimism that came with possible escape, before she broke him down. She leant back in her chair with a smile that reached her eyes, and waited for Special Agent G Callen to regain consciousness so her fun could begin._

The steady, rhythmic ticking of the mantle clock was starting to drive him mad. Callen had been lying in a darkened room for what could possibly have been hours; there was no sound of human life, no voices, no TV or radio, just the repetitive sound of the darned clock which seemed to be getting louder with every second the ticking confirmed was passing. If he listened really closely, the white noise of what could be a refrigerator was also humming in the background. With visibility practically non-existent, and to prevent his hearing from driving him to the brink of insanity, he focussed on his other senses. The faint scent of nicotine lingered in the room. Not the 'clean' smell of packet cigarettes but the dirtier smell of roll-ups. Touch; well he could feel the rope that bound his wrists burning as he attempted to feel his surroundings.

Callen raised his knees and positioned his feet under his thighs before digging his heels in and pushing himself back gingerly. The caution paid dividends as before he could even straighten his legs, his back and shoulders were knocking against something solid. Turning his head slightly he tried to make out what the solid mass was. The movement caused a wave of nausea to wash over him; his vision blurred and he swallowed, determined not to add vomit to the already unpleasant smell of cigarettes that permeated the room. He licked his dry lips and the final sense kicked in, triggering memories from the events of what he hoped had only occurred a few hours earlier. The metallic taste of blood exploded on his tongue as he found what felt like a cut on his bottom lip. Callen leant back against the wall and closed his eyes, breathing slowly and deeply.

When he opened them again the room had changed. A slither of dawn's early light was teasing around the edges of a window. He thought that within half an hour that slither would grow to hopefully allow enough light through for him to get a handle on the room; the layout, contents and with daylight would come noises of the street. Anything to drown out that damned incessant tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick of the clock. It had been about 2am when the operation had begun to rapidly turn south and the last thing he remembered was being surrounded by four burly Hispanics, all brandishing weapons, before being pistol whipped hard from behind. That would explain the dizziness and nausea, Callen thought, concussion. And if his estimate was correct, he had been unconscious for approximately three hours. He closed his eyes and waited.

Daylight filtered through the edges of the window blinds, causing shafts of light to cut lines on the floor of the room. Callen opened his eyes again and lifted his head, squinting in an attempt to keep the throbbing in his head at bay. He surveyed his prison cell and was not particularly surprised with what he could now see. The tick, tick, tick of a clock was indeed a small mantle clock that sat above the fire surround opposite him. The fireplace was open, with several logs pile haphazardly on the hearth and a layer of fine dust covered much of the room. The floor hadn't been swept for a while and in the corners of the ceiling, cobwebs had formed. A small brown leather sofa was to his left, pushed tight against the window, and to Callen's right was a closed and presumably locked door.

Callen manoeuvred himself into a standing position and leant against the wall, his bound hands behind his back. Although they were tight and cutting into his wrists, he now felt some flexibility. He squeezed his fingers together and attempted to slip his hands through, but without success. He exhaled loudly and tried to pat down his pants pocket to see if his captors had overlooked anything. His gun obviously was gone as was his pocket knife and picklock set. The bobbi pin was still on his belt but that would prove useless against rope ties.

He stared at the fireplace and hoped there would be something sharp he could use. Gingerly pushing himself off the wall, he walked slowly to the other side of the room, somewhat relieved that the earlier dizziness had passed. With his hands tied, the clock was too high for him to knock down and break, but later the parts could be used to break out of the room. He filed the thought away and knelt in front of the fireplace. The logs were resting on a cast iron grate shaped like a basket and Callen quickly placed the rope that bound his wrists over the edges. He pulled, twisted and sawed, causing the rope to chafe and burn his wrists. Within five minutes he was able to squeeze his hands through the frayed rope and he was free. He rubbed his raw wrists and hissed slightly at the pain it caused. Remembering his attack, he touched the side of his head and winced as he made contact with a gash that still felt tacky. Even in the dim light of the room, he could make out the blood on his fingers. Wiping his hands on his jeans, he turned towards the door and tried the handle. It was locked which was no real surprise, so Callen turned his attention to the window.

He lifted the blind and shook his head imperceptibly when he saw the iron bars. This felt more like a prison cell. Still, he thought, maybe he could break the glass and call for help. He dismissed the idea almost immediately as the view from the window was of a large expanse of grass and whoever had captured him most likely had the building guarded. He turned his attention back to the clock and focused on taking it apart; looking for pieces he could use to forge his escape. Within minutes, the clocks innards were on the floor in front of him. Callen chose a strong, thin piece of card from the clock's base and moved to the door. Sliding the card between the door and the door jamb he tilted the card backwards and forwards until it slipped under the angle of the bolt and the locked door popped open.

Callen paused and held his breath, peeking out in to the corridor beyond. The humming of the electrical appliance was now louder and he guessed a kitchen was close by. His senses told him the house was empty but his intuition advised he was being watched. Looking back in to his former prison he surveyed the ceiling. A solitary light fixture could house a hidden camera; two light fittings on the wall, cavities in the sofa and fireplace may also contain cameras; he knew how small but effective these could be.

A sudden noise jolted him back to his escape plan and he pulled the door to, still inside the room. It had sounded like someone banging against a wall and Callen wondered if one of his team had also been captured. He would have laid money on there being no-one else in the house, at least no-one that wasn't a prisoner. A shuffling of footsteps could now be heard and Callen made his way quickly into the hall, turning left into a kitchen. A cursory glance told him the kitchen was just as sparse as his own, however he made a search of the drawers and cupboards in the vain hope of finding a knife or another sharp piece of kitchen equipment.

"Heellooooo?" A familiar voice broke the silence, confirming to Callen that a member of his team had been captured; Deeks. "Is anybody there? C'mon now, ya can't keep me locked up forever, I need to pee..."

Callen pulled a grim smile; even in danger Deeks had a way of lightening a situation, even if it was rather inappropriate. Deeks' voice had come from a room at the end of the hall and Callen approached it with caution. He tried the handle. Locked.

"Hey man, I can hear you. Talk to me," came the plaintive appeal from Deeks.

Callen placed his face close to the door and whispered, "Deeks, it me, Callen. You good?"

"Hey Callen," Deeks voice dropped to a whisper. "I'm good, you here to rescue me, are the others with you? Can you hurry up?"

"Hold on," Callen replied as he removed the pin from his belt and worked on the lock. "I was captured but escaped. I don't know where the others are; they could be held on another floor."

The lock sprung seconds later and Callen pushed the door open. Deeks rushed out the door and stopped suddenly, blinking as the brighter corridor assailed his vision.

"Argh, get these off," Deeks turned his back towards Callen so his hands could be un-cuffed. Callen deftly used the bobbi pin once more and Deeks was free within seconds.

"You're bleeding," Callen said as he saw the gunshot graze on Deeks' left arm.

"It's nothing," Deeks said as he pulled at his sleeve to inspect the damage. "What about all that blood on your head?"

"They knocked me out." Callen answered briefly.

"Hey, where's Sam to rescue you when you need him?" Deeks grinned widely at Callen knowing exactly what banter would materialise as soon as Sam rescued Callen.

"I never need rescuing," Callen replied with a faint grin of his own. "Now c'mon," he motioned, "we need to search this house for the others. Stay close and we'll clear it room by room."

Deeks nodded his agreement and they cautiously approached the staircase to check the top floor. Without guns or any weapon both men were reliant on their senses. They trod carefully and listened at every doorway before quietly entering each bedroom and the bathroom. Every room was vacant; free of prisoners, captors and furniture. The bathroom wall cabinet was also empty. No clues as to whose house they were in or if Sam and Kensi were also being held prisoner. Deeks paused by a bedroom window and peered out. With the morning sun low in the sky, the elevated view was of grass and the trees beyond. They could be anywhere.

"What do you remember about the take down?" Callen asked Deeks quietly.

"Kens and I were clearing the first floor of the warehouse and got separated; she got trapped in an office. Next thing I knew I was surrounded by four guys who managed to disarm me. But I fought like a wild jungle cat, got three down and was about to take out the fourth when a bullet grazed my arm. Threw me off my game and the fourth guy plugged me with a right hook. You?"

"Same happened on the ground floor. Sam got locked in a room – but I was only seconds behind him so these guys must have some great tools to have shut the door remotely and so precisely. When I turned round I had two guys either side. I think I fired a shot but next thing I knew I was here. Where ever here is..."

"Well good thing once of us didn't sleep on the job," Deeks grinned. "I had two guys cuff me and carry me to a van. I had no idea anyone else was captured. We drove around for a bit before I was carried in here."

"So I must have been placed in another van and driven here separately. Why? What difference does that make? I found you easily enough."

"And you escaped easily enough...how?" Deeks asked.

"Loosened the rope they'd tied me with, broke a clock and used the pins to pick the lock."

"OK McGyver, but doesn't that seem too easy? My room was literally a prison. Even the door had no handle or lock on the inside, yet you had everything you needed to escape?"

"Let's take another look at your room then." Callen said as the two men walked down stairs.

"I'll wait outside, just in case someone decides to lock us both in this time." Deeks magnanimously held the door open for Callen as he took up his position in the doorway.

The rising sun now allowed a small amount of light to seep into Deeks' former prison and Callen studied the room. It was very unusual for a house to have a room with no window and Callen started tapping the walls. He then stood in the doorway as Deeks moved back in the hall.

"They've soundproofed this room." Callen said as he pointed to this thickness of the door and walls.

"But why do that? I mean you heard me calling." Deeks looked puzzled as he tried to figure out their captor end game.

"How long were you shouting for?"

"At least an hour, then I had a little break before starting again."

"Well I only heard you about one minute before I got you out." Callen furrowed his brow as he too attempted to work out what was happening. "No offence Deeks, but you've got a loud voice and I would have heard you."

"But you said you were unconscious..." Deeks countered.

"I was awake for at least forty minutes before I escaped. But you're right. Someone is playing games with us, controlling our movements."

"In that case we have two options. Check the basement and then break out, or just break outside now." Deeks pointed to the only remaining inside door they had not tried.

Callen glanced at the front door and then back at the basement entrance.

"We know Sam and Kensi were trapped when we were all separated from each other. They're not in any other room in the house so we have to try the basement. If that's clear we break out and check any out-houses."

"What if they have dogs?" Deeks shot a look at Callen.

"What?" Callen replied.

"Dogs, what if they have guard dogs outside?" Deeks said in concern.

"Just use those dog whispering skills you worked on with Monty." Callen threw the remark back to Deeks as he moved a hand towards the basement door handle.

"What?" Now it was Deeks' turn to look puzzled. "Monty is a sniffer dog, sniffing out bombs to save lives..."

"You ready?" Callen interrupted Deeks' ramblings.

"Sure am."

Callen slowly turned the door handle to the one room that remained unchecked and slowly exhaled.

_As Callen turned the handle, the woman observing them smiled as her plan started to come together, however unknown to her, she herself was being watched._


	2. Chapter 2

The door to the basement was locked. Pulling out the now well-used bobbi pin, Callen bent down and picked the lock. Following the same process as the other rooms, Deeks stayed on guard duty in the doorway as Callen cautiously moved through. Groping around in the dark, he found a light pull. He breathed deeply and pulled the cord. Bright artificial light illuminated the basement, revealing a wooden staircase leading to a large open space. As he ventured down the stairs, he could see the walls of the room's far section were covered with newspaper articles and collages of old photographs of children. Checking that the more shadowy areas behind the staircase were clear, Callen walked to the back wall, quickly scanning the pictures. Two pictures jumped out at him immediately and he stopped abruptly and stared.

Deeks, still on guard duty at the entrance, flicked his attention between the hall and the basement. He had no view of the far walls but saw Callen stop suddenly. He narrowed his eyes, keen to understand what Callen had found. He moved down the first two steps and called out quietly.

"Callen, what is it?"

Callen ignored Deeks' question and took several more paces forward. A large newspaper clipping with black and white headlines stating "Young Attorney Proves Accused Innocence", featured a photo of a younger Deeks. To the right of the article was an enlarged photo of his NCIS team attending a crime scene six months ago. A black marker pen had circled Deeks face.

"Callen?" Deeks called again.

"You'd better come down here." Callen replied glancing back up the stairs. "Looks like this is all about you."

Deeks gave the hall one last look and followed to where Callen was studying the back wall.

"You remember this one?" Callen asked.

"Yeah this was my last case for the Public Defender's office," Deeks peered at the newspaper article. "A smear campaign left an old lady penniless when she was accused of abusing children. The evidence was all circumstantial as the only accuser refused to testify and she was acquitted."

"So someone disagrees and wants to make you pay?" Callen asked.

"Maybe," Deeks replied. "I mean look at all the photos of these kids, someone must think they were all victims." He moved across to the where photos of about a dozen adults were pinned. "Maybe someone is tracing them as adults..."

"Yeah, good luck with that..." Callen turned back towards the photos of children and took a closer look. The photos were a mixture of young boys and girls, from as young as five up to about fourteen. Some snaps were Polaroids of children looking directly at the camera, in others the children were clearly unaware they were being photographed. All the pictures could easily pass as family photos and they ranged in quality and years, the oldest dating from the late seventies. The most recent was possibly from the mid nineties.

He started to walk away when something caught his eye. Pausing, Callen stared at a small dog-eared photo that was almost hidden from sight. He reached out and un-pinned a photo of a young boy standing near another younger child, both with serious expressions and staring at something off camera, unaware the moment was being captured on film. As he stared at the image, a chill ran down his spine.

Callen walked towards Deeks who was still scanning a number of other news clipping on the wall next to his own.

"What was the name of the woman you defended?" he demanded in a low steady voice, as he controlled the urge to push Deeks up against the wall.

"Uh Maria Campbell," Deeks could see the flash of anger which had crossed Callen's face as he asked the question. "Why? And who's that?" Deeks now saw the photo which Callen held loosely in his hand.

"This Deeks, is me," Callen held the photo steady, in front of Deeks', whose eyes had widened in surprise. "And that," Callen continued, pointing at the newspaper article that sung Deeks' praises, "is one guilty bitch you let walk free."

"Woah, you know this woman?" He was unsure why he was surprised. From what he had heard about Callen it only seemed a matter of time before someone from his past materialised in his adult life.

His question was met with a hard stare. Deeks really did not know what he was expected to say or how best to handle Callen, after all Sam was the expert and even he struggled to get anything more than one-liners and evasion from his partner where his childhood was concerned.

"So do you wanna tell me about it?" He asked in his usual casual manner, attempting to stave off the awkward silence that had quickly developed.

"Not particularly," came the measured reply from Callen, as he turned his back on Deeks and focussed on the photographs of children in front of him.

"When did you meet her? When you were what six or seven?" Deeks continued to pursue his line of questioning.

"Eight" Callen replied absently, still concentrating on the collage of photos, but without really seeing any of them.

"Really? You were eight in that photo? You look about six at the most."

Callen turned round with a slightly amused expression on his face and answered, "I was short for my age."

Deeks returned the grin, smiling inwardly at the success he felt at getting Callen to interact with him on a personal level. The trick was for him now to keep that going. "You do know that even Kensi is taller than you?"

"Only when she's in very high heels," Callen retorted, emphasising the word 'very' as he turned back to the photos again.

"So do you recognise any of the other kids?" Deeks moved to Callen's side and glanced between Callen and the collage.

"I don't think so, only the kid in the photo with me," Callen answered as he handed the photo to Deeks.

Deeks took the photo and studied it closely. Usually seeing photos of friends and co-workers when they were children was a fun affair; laughing at old hairstyles and fashions, and warm feelings of 'weren't you cute'. In this instance, Deeks honestly couldn't go down either route. Callen had a detachment about him even as an eight year old. His facial expression was serious and the body language even from this image, indicated he was alone, disengaged with his surroundings and withdrawn. He may have been in the same photo as a younger child but there was clearly distance between them.

"Who's he?" Deeks asked, referring to the younger boy.

"Johnny Campbell, only child of Maria and Ethan Campbell." Callen stopped, giving Deeks only the most basic of information.

"Ah," Deeks responded in kind.

"And what's that supposed to mean?" Callen replied pointedly.

"Nothing, I asked who he was and you told me." Deeks was surprised how easily he could turn Callen round. He now appeared to have information his colleague wanted.

"What did you find out about them as Attorney?" Callen knew the tentative games the two of them were starting to play and he had no doubt that Deeks was much better at this than any of the team gave him credit for.

"John Campbell committed suicide aged fourteen which tore the family apart. Ethan fell into a depression, developed serious health problems. They sold their house to pay the medical bills which spiralled. And then the mom was accused of abusing foster children in her care." Deeks met Callen's eyes. "It was my job to defend her."

"And you did a great job," Callen sarcastically congratulated him.

"You've gotta be kidding me! Half the kids she'd fostered had dropped off the grid as adults, others refused to get involved," Deeks was arguing to justify him winning the case, which Callen clearly felt was a miscarriage of justice. "...and then there were the few children whose files were sealed by the courts. I guess you were one of those?"

"Well there's not much point being an undercover Federal agent if everyone knows who you are and all your dirty little secrets." The sarcasm had morphed into condescension. Callen took a breath and brought himself back under control. "What was she accused of doing?"

Deeks looked at Callen, surprised by the question. Callen's earlier reaction surely meant he had experienced the same abuse, and his answer could force Callen to reveal some of his darkest secrets.

Deeks' tone softened as he chose his next words carefully. "Physical abuse; but then you knew that didn't you?"

Callen maintained eye contact with Deeks and did not show any signs of a reaction. But knowing that he would not voluntarily open up, Deeks decided to talk for him.

"You know there are some that say families are overrated. My dad well, he was a violent drunk," Deeks paused, glancing away into the distance before meeting Callen's stare. "I shot him when I was eleven to stop him beating on me and my mom. He was going to shoot me. I spent a few weeks in a foster home while my mom got better, so I know some of what you went through..."

Deeks trailed off as he thought back to his childhood and the constant state of fear he had lived in. He couldn't relate to half of what Callen had experienced as a child, but he had heard horror stories about children who grew up in care; met some of them first hand as a child and later through his LAPD work. Although he and Callen rarely had more than light-hearted interactions or serious work conversations, he reckoned they had a lot more in common than with any of the other team members. He'd just never had the opportunity to try to get close to Callen. But then maybe that was a deliberate ploy on Callen's part...

"Deeks, if I wanted a therapist, I would talk to Nate. And by the sounds of it you could do with talking to him about this, not to me." Callen shut Deeks out as he took back and pocketed the photo, making his way to the stairs. "We need to get out of this place and call in LAPD. The only crime here is that they captured you - the former attorney - as you're to blame for allowing a child abuser to go free. I just happened to be with you. This is not an NCIS case."

"I am not to blame for the one witness failing to appear in court to provide evidence and you know that. Maybe if other victims had come forward...And you know I really don't think Hetty will want this as an LAPD case." Deeks followed Callen who had climbed the first two steps. "Let me list the reasons why; there's the photo of our team – all of us. Just because I'm circled doesn't mean the rest of the team haven't been made. And where are Sam and Kensi now? Then there's the photo of you. And whoever has done all this may well know you from the past and can connect the dots. And that, my friend, means that you've been burned."

Deeks had seen Callen pocket the photo and was certain that the both of them being taken and their somewhat connected past was more than just coincidence. He just had to persuade him to see the logic of his reasoning, even if it meant pushing all the wrong buttons.

"I have not been burned and there is no coincidence otherwise I'd have been circled too. There is nothing to connect me to the Campbell's so none of this matters," Callen reached the top step but before he could continue the basement door slammed shut and darkness enveloped them as the lights went out.

_Nearby, Maria Campbell had studied the progress of the two men with interest, and she smiled widely. There were cameras and microphones hidden in every room and given the tools he had been provided, G. Callen's earlier escape had been text book. With a click of several buttons, she had activated microphones from Deeks' sound-proofed room and allowed the noise he made to be heard by Callen and the rescue had been made. She had heard Callen say there was no one else in the house, but seen the two men explore every room to make sure, just as their training instructed them to. Logic had dictated they would clear each room from top to bottom, and so they reached the basement last, as she had anticipated. _

_The circled picture of Deeks and the main newspaper article were designed to draw their attention to the wall and to make the natural assumption that Deeks was the target of a campaign to right the wrongs he'd made by letting a child abuser go free. She was unsure whether the partially hidden picture of Callen would be found, but recalling the child he had been, she had gambled that he would study the photographs intently, lest there be one of him or of another child he may have come across in his travels through various homes and orphanages. It was the only sense of belonging and connection he had as a child; belonging to 'the system', connecting with other foster children._

_The tension had been palpable between Deeks and Callen as soon as the link between the two had been made. A rare glimpse of anger and bitterness could be seen from Callen but before it could manifest into violence, Maria had to stop them exiting the basement. _

_As the two men started to bicker, the basement door had been slammed shut and locked from the outside. At the same time, Maria flicked a switch and cut the power. With the two damaged men trapped in a room full of secrets, she wondered which one would break first. _

* * *

_**Note:**_

**Thank you for your fantastic reviews, favourites and follows. I hope you continue to enjoy the story – updates will be every weekend. **

**Note that this chapter was written about a month **_**prior**_** to S05E04 'Reznikov.N' airing in America...(It's just co-incidence that both use the discovery of a childhood photo – either that or Shane Brennan read my mind!)**


	3. Chapter 3

"Shit," Callen said as he fumbled his way to the top step and tried the door. It wouldn't budge. Groping around he found the light pull but that was now equally unresponsive. "Shit," he muttered again under his breath.

"Well I guess that means we're trapped again." Deeks sounded way too nonchalant. "Look on the bright side, at least we're together this time and not tied up."

"Are you always this optimistic?" Callen asked as he carefully made his way to the bottom step, bumping into Deeks as he reached the ground.

"Optimistic, happy, entertaining, witty, intelligent...there is no end to my talents as a valued human being."

"Well talent your way into thinking of an escape plan then."

"Seriously? That doesn't even make sense. And how can I work out a fantastic escape plan when I can't see a thing?"

As if on cue, the bright basement light flickered on. Callen and Deeks squinted at each other and Deeks made a dash back up the stairs to try the handle. The door was still locked. He reached towards the light pull and tugged. No response. He repeated the action several times but the light remained on.

"So we're at the mercy of our captors then," Callen verbalised his earlier thoughts. "There must be cameras hidden all over the house; microphones too."

"Are you always this pessimistic?" Deeks asked Callen with a backwards glance and a smile, as he made his way to the centre of the basement and stared at the smoke detector next to the light.

"Realistic," Callen corrected, before adding, "with a healthy dose of paranoia. We can try to disable the cameras if we can find them. But I doubt they will be anywhere obvious, like in the light fittings or smoke detector."

"You never know," Deeks replied, "Even bad guys sometimes like the easy life….See?"

Deeks smiled triumphantly as he reached up and unscrewed the smoke detector to reveal a small camera. A quick tug saw the miniature camera ripped out and the two examined their discovery. It was a non-descript standard "nanny-cam" that could be bought on-line or at most hardware stores.

"OK Sherlock," Callen said to Deeks. "Where are the others?"

"Sherlock, I like that. Does that make you Watson?" Deeks said as he started a slow walk around the basement, looking for other possible hiding places. "I've always wanted a sidekick."

Callen shot Deeks a resigned look and shook his head slightly. The heat from their earlier disagreement had quickly dissipated after the door had slammed and the lights went out. He was sure the fact they had been switched on again so soon was part of some over-arching plan. Maybe their captor was trying to play the two men off against each other. And if that was the case then whoever had them was well aware of Callen's true identity.

"What happened to Maria Campbell?" Callen asked.

"Hmm, when the case ended she was living in a small apartment on the coast, near her husband's care home. But that was seven years ago. She could have moved or died since then."

"If she was as broke as you say, she wouldn't have moved. And Maria Campbell's a matriarch, she'll outlive her husband. You sure the son committed suicide?"

"Yep, found hanged in his bedroom." Deeks replied.

"Sure it wasn't murder?" Callen asked with a faint hint of amusement in his voice.

"Why?" Deeks asked, puzzled why Callen would ask such a question with a distinct undertone of joy.

"He was a nasty kid, even at five." Callen changed the subject abruptly. "Found any more cameras, detective?"

"Ok, ok, I get the hint."

Deeks went back to searching for hidden pieces of electronic equipment as Callen walked thoughtfully around the basement. Their earlier concentration had centred on the collage of children's photos and the circled images of Deeks. Tucked into the opposite wall was a small table and as Callen approached he saw one piece of paper neatly aligned with table's corner. He saw a child's scrawl and felt his heart sink as he scanned over the words he had once written. Turning the paper over he saw two sets of adult handwriting, which confirmed to him that Maria Campbell was driving force behind their capture.

"What's that?" Deeks' attention had quickly drifted from his given task to Callen. He saw the piece of paper Callen held in his hand and wandered over to the table.

"It's nothing," Callen replied automatically as he moved back to the wall of photos, paper still in his hand.

"Let me see," Deeks insisted as he followed Callen.

"No," Callen said distractedly, trying not to draw any more attention to the piece of paper.

"Don't be so childish!" Deeks admonished, his eyes twinkling as he toyed with Callen.

"Me, childish?" Callen turned to face Deeks with a slight grin and raised his eyebrows. "And that coming from you?"

"What are you trying to tell me?" Deeks asked innocently.

"What do you think?" Callen replied.

"Well I don't know so that's why I'm asking." Deeks was enjoying the verbal sparring match.

"_You_ are the most immature person on the team..."

"Oh yeah, well I've heard some stories about you. Kensi does talk to me you know. And sometimes even Sam does. And I do have the eyes and ears of a finely tuned detective. Y'know a respected Federal Agent recently likened me to Sherlock..." And before Callen could get a word in edgeways, Deeks ripped the piece of paper out of Callen's hand and danced away with it, a broad smile across his face.

"Give it back," Callen demanded, taking a pace towards Deeks.

"No," Deeks continued to back off as Callen advanced.

"Deeks," Callen warned.

"Yes?" He replied sweetly.

"Please," Callen took another step forward as he changed tactics to plead with the detective.

Deeks stopped and looked at Callen and then back at the piece of paper. As he skimmed the contents his shoulders dropped and he handed the paper back.

"Hey man, I'm sorry. I didn't realise..."

Callen took the paper without looking at it, maintaining eye contact with Deeks

"You know I've been through a lot, but _the_ worst year of my life was when I was eight, and the two months I spent with the Campbell's."

Callen sat on the bottom stair as Deeks leaned against the wooden handrail.

"Care to share?" Deeks asked, doubting Callen would.

"She seemed so normal at first, so nice." Callen started. "In fact it was so _nice_ that I refused to stay and demanded to be taken back to the children's home..." He stared into the distance as he remembered his first encounter with Maria Campbell.

_Callen walked up to the front door, kit bag on his shoulder and waited while his 'social worker of the week', Angela Walker, rang the door bell. After thirty seconds the door was answered by a woman in her mid thirties. Her hair was tied back from her face and she wore a flowery dress that hung just below her knees. She smiled sweetly, introducing herself as Maria Campbell and invited them in._

_Dressed just like the perfect mom, Callen thought sullenly as he was led to the living room. He sat down on the sofa without being asked and took in his surroundings. The room was decorated in greens and browns and light streamed in through the large windows. Family photographs adorned the front of book shelves; Maria Campbell with a man; must be her husband, the couple with a baby, and pictures of the baby on his own, and of him as a toddler. He saw the books on medicine, psychology, child development, as well as sporting books and classic novels. Within the first five minutes he had this family pigeon-holed. Middle-class family who could only have one child decide to do the right thing and foster children who were less fortunate than them. It made them feel better about themselves. They could practice their parenting skills to make sure they get it right for real with their own kid._

_He zoned out of the adult conversations until his social worker stood up to leave. Callen decided to stand too. He wasn't going to stay here. It was too 'nice' and he knew that could be as bad as a place that did not feel welcoming._

"_I'll pop back tomorrow around 4pm Mrs Campbell, to check how the first night went and how Callen managed on his first day at the new school."_

"_That would be lovely, I so appreciate the support you'll be giving me and my husband. We are so nervous about looking after a young child who has been through...so much."_

_The two women walked to the door without so much as a glance at the child who was being left with yet another family of strangers._

"_I'm not staying here," Callen said as walked through both the women and reached for the front door latch. He opened the door and strolled towards the front gate._

"_Callen," called his social worker in exasperation. "Don't be so stupid." She jogged down the path to catch up with the stroppy eight-year old. "Now turn around and get back in that house right now."_

"_No."_

"_Mr and Mrs Campbell have been looking forward to this moment for a long time."_

"_No they haven't. And I'm not stupid," Callen said defiantly._

_Angela Walker looked flustered. This was her first case with Callen, in fact it was her first case period; and from the stories she had heard from other social workers she seemed to be getting off lightly so far._

"_I'm sorry. I didn't mean that you're stupid. I meant that you're not behaving in a way that is appropriate to a new family looking to help you." Angela Walker bent down towards the child, attempting to engage him and explain what she really meant._

"_So it's my fault that no one wants me, coz I don't behave." Callen said quietly. He looked up at his social worker and plotted. There was no way he was spending the night with some fake family. He could run or he could fight. Miss Walker was new to him and she looked like easy prey. Fight seemed like a much more interesting option._

"_No Callen that's not what I meant either," Angela said in irritation, her embarrassment building as she quickly lost control of the situation._

_Mrs Campbell had joined them at the front gate, eager to offer a resolution and connect with her new child. She reached out and laid her hand gently on Callen's shoulder. He immediately shrugged it off and backed away, staring at her with hard blue eyes. _

"_Don't touch me," he said in a low voice, not breaking eye contact._

"_Sorry," Mrs Campbell said, wondering what she hadn't been told about his past that meant he shunned physical contact._

"_Foster homes aren't safe," Callen said, still staring at Mrs Campbell. "Last one I was at, the dad grabbed me so hard he gave me black bruises up my arm. They took ages to go. Mrs Walker didn't believe me. Said I got it from school. And she said that the bruise on my face came from fighting, but it didn't. _HE_ gave it to me. Before that she left me at a house where they made me sick. They never gave me proper food and I ended up in hospital. But the worse one Mrs Walker took me to...at night and...and..." Callen forced his eyes to fill with tears as turned his head away from Mrs Campbell._

_Callen's social worker shook her head as anger built up inside her. The embarrassment this boy was causing her was distressing beyond belief. And the ease with which the lies had rolled off his tongue had shocked her. She had only met the boy the previous day, and his last placement had ended as the foster mother had been taken seriously ill. And as to allegations of sexual abuse, well there was no indication in his file that had ever taken place or even been suspected._

"_I'm going back to the children's home," Callen opened the gate and waited at the car door._

_Angela followed Callen and grabbed his arm firmly. He squirmed in an attempt to release her grip but she held tight._

"_Listen to me. I've heard all about your stories and lies. You're an insolent little brat and all I am trying to do is help you. It's no wonder no-one wants you." Angela stopped as she realised she had gone too far with the boy and in front of a foster parent too._

_Callen stopped struggling and looked at both women, his defences dropping momentarily. In that split second, both Angela and Mrs Campbell caught a glimpse of the hurt caused by the heat of the moment comment._

"_You're a fucking bitch and I _AM_ going back to the children's home," Callen spat at his social worker._

_Angela let go of Callen's arm in shock at his language and behaviour. Anger, frustration and embarrassment took over and she instinctively raised her hand and slapped the eight year old around the face, before opening the car door and pushing Callen in. Callen turned suddenly in the back seat as he held his cheek, staring at his social worker triumphantly, as his eyes glistened from the sharp sting of her hand. A little pain was a small price to pay for him getting his own way. It was a trick that rarely failed and with his little scene, he doubted he would ever see the straight-laced Mrs Campbell again. At least he was safely ignored in his current children's home._

_Angela spoke quietly with Mrs Campbell, filling her in on a few details which were not in the official files presented to foster parents. The two women smiled apologetically to each other and shook hands before Mrs Campbell returned to the house. Angela climbed in the car and started the engine. She turned to look at the troublesome child who was now sitting quietly behind her._

"_OK you win, Callen." She said with a voice now trembling guilt more than anger. "You'll go back to the children's home until another placement comes up. And I am asking to be removed from the post as your social worker."_

"_Good," he said without a smile. "You were too easy and that family sucks."_

Callen's eyes focused on the present and he turned his attention back to Deeks who was waiting patiently and quietly for Callen to tell his story.

"You could say I wasn't on my best behaviour during the first visit." Callen said to Deeks with a sheepish look.

"What happened?" Deeks knew how challenging Callen could be as an adult and wondered what he would have been like as an eight year old, what havoc he could have wreaked. He certainly knew what _he_ did at that age and without any stability or structure in his home life, he was sure Callen would have been a whole lot worse.

"Nothing you need to know about." Callen replied, shattering Deeks' hope of Callen confiding in him. "Trouble is, I was taken back the next day by the welfare manager and told to stay. I was there two long months before they got rid of me."

Callen looked up at Deeks and thought of ways to avoid further conversations about his past. The two months with the Campbell's had had a lasting impact on him and belonged to a time he had long tried to forget. However he had a feeling that Deeks and their situation would force him to confront that experience.


	4. Chapter 4

**Thank you so much for the follows and favourites, and especially for the reviews. It really does make a difference to read your reviews and the general response so far is overwhelming. Keep 'em coming :)**

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Callen remained seated on the bottom step of the basement stairs and rubbed his hand over his head. His fingers found the sticky patch of blood from where he'd been pistol whipped earlier, and he was thankful the nausea and dizziness had now vanished. He needed to get Deeks to stop focusing on his time with the Campbell's and instead concentrate on why they'd been captured and how they were going to escape.

Deeks studied the Senior NCIS Agent and wished Sam was here. They each knew their respective partners so well, yet to a certain extent they all remained an enigma to each other; none more so than Callen – mainly because he knew so little about himself. And the most Deeks knew about Callen was that he grew up in foster homes, had trust issues, preferred to go it alone whenever things got personal and lived in a house with nothing worth stealing. On a day to day level they worked in a similar way, both preferring to bend the rules where needed. On a personal level – well Deeks could relate to an abusive childhood, but at least he knew exactly where he came from and who he was. Callen had already had little choice but to reveal snippets of information about his experience with the Campbell's, and Deeks thought he would try to press the point again.

"So what happened to you at the Campbell's?" Deeks repeated his earlier question.

"It doesn't matter." Callen replied as he broke away from Deeks' stare and studied his hands, pressing his fingers and thumbs together nervously.

"I think it does matter. Why else would your photo and writing - both pieces of evidence which are now in your pockets by the way - be in this room?" Deeks spoke pointedly to Callen. It seemed the direct approach was the only approach in this situation.

"So what about you, then?" Callen attempted to shift the focus onto Deeks. "It's you that's highlighted in the team photo and newspaper article, not me. If I wasn't with you, you'd have no idea I'm connected to this case."

"Callen, your name is all over that handwritten piece of paper, as is the name of your social worker and Maria Campbell's..." Deeks hated to point out the obvious to his team leader, but he needed to knock some sense in to him somehow.

Callen stared defensively at Deeks. It seemed their earlier arguments were re-surfacing and neither was willing to back down. Callen stood up to avoid Deeks effectively talking down to him again, and suddenly the lights went out.

"Oh man!" Deeks exclaimed. "You've gotta be kidding me."

And the lights flickered on again, then off, then on and continued to flicker on and off at a fast unrelenting pace.

"I hope you're not epileptic." Deeks asked, half in jest.

"No, but I think this may bring back my concussion." Callen replied grimly as he made his way to the top of the basement stairs.

He tried the handle again, barged his shoulder against the door, but nothing would give. He turned round and walked back down, the jarring light making his movements almost surreal.

"This would be really cool if there was music, drink and girls. But I get the feeling this is designed to drive us crazy." Deeks said as remained where he was and watched his moving hands judder under the flickering lights.

"Yeah well it's gonna work unless we can find a way to stop this." Callen said.

"But how?" Deeks asked, raising his hands as he asked the question, again faintly amused by seeing his hands move in the flickering light.

"I don't know," replied Callen as he began to search the edges of the room for any switches to power off the electricity supply.

Two hours later and the lights were still flashing. They had soon stopped walking around the room as the lighting was causing them to stumble and both men began experiencing dizziness and nausea. Callen sat quietly in the corner, his eyes closed and head between his bent knees. He attempted to mentally shut out the sensory overload effect of the strobes and had advised Deeks to do the same.

Deeks sat on his haunches with his head in his hands as he tried to follow Callen's advice; however the flickering lights were still burning through his eyelids. He opened his eyes and looked at Callen, who seemed to have totally removed himself from this torture. Deeks squeezed his eyes tight shut again, covered his face with his hands and thought of Kensi. Maybe she could magic him away from this basement, but his mind kept wandering...where was Kensi, had she been captured, was she being subjected to something similar or worse? Ok, thought Deeks, thinking of Kensi was not helping. The ocean and surfing was a safer bet. Deeks concentrated on Surfrider Beach in Malibu and transported himself to the last time he was there, riding the waves.

After a few minutes of mind-surfing, Deeks sensed a change in the room. He tentatively opened his eyes. The strobe lighting has ceased. In its place was darkness.

"Callen?" Deeks asked cautiously.

His question went unanswered and he looked to where he had last seen his colleague. If he squinted, he thought he could see the faint outline of Callen, a darker form in the blackness.

"Callen?" Deeks asked in a louder voice as he shuffled across and tentatively poked Callen on the upper arm.

He felt Callen jump and Deeks moved back swiftly to avoid an anticipated punch or kick. He felt a rush of air as whichever of Callen's limbs passed within an inch of him.

"Hey, Callen, you good?" Deeks was slightly concerned with how Callen had managed to just remove himself entirely from their current situation. Was that his normal behaviour, he wondered.

"Yeah, sorry," came the reply from Callen.

"What the hell is going on here?" Deeks asked.

"Psychological torture, CIA style." Callen replied, stretching out the sentence to emphasise each word.

"And you know this, how?" Deeks regretted the question as soon as he had uttered the words.

"I used to be CIA, remember? I'm trained." Callen responded.

"Trained to what" Deeks asked pointedly. "Commit torture or resist it?"

"Both," was the short and blunt answer.

"OK, that's good I think." Deeks said. "So what's next?"

"Days and weeks of sleep deprivation, non-stop noise, isolation...there's usually an objective, an endgame." Callen trailed off as he considered what the endgame could possibly be, and why.

"So if Maria Campbell's behind this, then –"

"She is," Callen interrupted. "Without a doubt. She's connected you to me and is scared that we'll talk and she'll end up in prison."

"But it would never go to trial due to the double jeopardy clause - unless there was more than just the one crime of physical abuse, which was the only charge at the time." Deeks knew the likelihood of Maria Campbell going to trial again for abuse was not really possible. And with her being instrumental in abducting two Federal Agents, the chances of her even escaping alive were diminishing with every passing minute.

"Does the psychological abuse of vulnerable children count as a different charge?" Callen said reluctantly.

"No violence?" Deeks asked, well aware that psychological violence went hand in hand with physical abuse. He was glad they were under the cover of darkness. Without the ability to see each other, it seemed Callen was a little more willing to talk.

"Not with the Campbell's. Well not really," Callen added as there had only been the one physical encounter during his time there.

Deeks was surprised that there was no violence, although he wondered at the 'not really' from Callen. From his point of view there was no grey area when it came to domestic abuse and he was surprised Callen didn't share that standpoint.

"Did you know Maria Campbell had a degree in child psychology?" He asked.

"No," Callen replied slowly as he recalled the bookcase at the Campbell's. "I mean they had books on all that but I thought they were just normal books on raising children or to do with Mr Campbell's work. I think he was a college lecturer."

"Yeah, he lectured in Literature, Callen. Maria is, was a psychologist. Maybe that's how she managed to fool me..." Deeks shook his head feeling ashamed that he hadn't sensed that Maria Campbell was anything other than a sweet old lady. From what little Callen had revealed it seemed that he'd sensed something was off when he first met her.

"Was there any _other_ types of abuse?" Deeks felt guilty even asking, and was even more glad the lights were still out.

Callen shook his head, although the gesture was futile in the dark. "No," he answered.

As if on cue, the lights flickered on. And this time stayed on. Both agents blinked heavily and rubbed their eyes as the light assaulted their senses.

"So how long will they stay on this time?" Deeks asked.

"Hard to tell, maybe for the next few days..."

"Sleep deprivation." Deeks got up and stretched. "If I had known I'd have asked you to plan that op for yesterday morning. At least I could have gotten my eight hours of beauty sleep, not that I need it of course, being the only naturally handsome man in the room right now."

Callen stood too and wandered around. "Must make me super-naturally handsome."

Deeks turned to Callen. "Really? Is this the level of conversation you have with Sam? And you call me childish!" He shook his head and smiled. "I think we need to ditch Kensi and Sam and partner up ourselves..."

Callen raised his eyebrows. "Interesting theory, but I think I'll pass."

"Why, what's wrong with me?" Deeks asked the deliberately leading question.

"Where d'ya want me to start?" Callen replied seamlessly.

"See, we have the banter down to a fine art already." Deeks said, before changing the subject abruptly in a hope to throw Callen and again force him to open up. "So how does this compare to the way the Campbell's treated you as a kid?"

"The photos and that paper I wrote as a kid are in line with the mind games she played, but the rest doesn't really add up." Callen said as he leant against the table, staring again at the collage of photos opposite. It would be very neat and convenient to attribute all this to Maria Campbell, he thought, but breaking an eight year old was very different to what was going on here. He had to finally it to himself and to Deeks, but something larger was at play. "This is half-assed hi-tech, federal agency style imitation torture. She's gotten help from someone, from somewhere...I know she's connected to this, but something else is going on here. I just can't work out what or why..."

"So what did she do to you?" Deeks asked outright, determined to get some straight answers out of Callen.

Callen dropped his shoulders as he let out a breath he did not realise he was holding. He focused on the photos and trawled back through the memories he had tried so hard to repress.


	5. Chapter 5

_The first few days had been relatively normal. He was taken to a new school where the children were wary of him. He sat at the back of the class and met the stares of the other kids; standard behaviour for him in any new school. He had little trouble in keeping up with his school work, and his grades rarely suffered which was highly unusual for any foster child. Once he got the lay of the land, he would gradually undermine his teacher's authority by challenging teaching methods and answers, and refusing to comply with instructions. He particularly enjoyed being a smart ass and being right; there was nothing better than seeing the reaction of an adult forced to acknowledge an eight year old knew better than they did. He would also determine which of his class it was worth aligning himself with, if any. Should he want to, he could become a geek, a bully, a budding jock or the strange new kid. He would concoct stories about himself that everyone would believe. Often though, it was safer to not make friends at all. He rarely stayed in one place long enough, although it was always fun to pretend._

_Maria and Ethan Campbell were polite and careful around him at first, although their five year old son Johnny was more problematic; a budding bully who had already developed the tactics to cause trouble for Callen. He would pinch himself and blame Callen, start crying for no reason and say that Callen had been horrible to him. Maria in particular was naturally sceptical of Callen, who alternated between protesting his innocence and just shrugging his shoulders and defiantly remaining silent. Having already witnessed the horrendous lies he had told his social worker she naturally sided with her own flesh and blood._

_Over the next few weeks, control was gradually wrested from the eight year old to the foster family. Little by little everything the boy said and did was undermined, ridiculed and ignored. Johnny, their precious five year old specialised in name-calling – or rather the lack of. As Callen had no first name, only an initial, Johnny decided "that boy" would do. And as he was blamed for more problems, Mr and Mrs Campbell also started referring to him as "that boy". The breakage of a sentimental vase, caused of course by Johnny, resulted in Callen receiving the belt and then several days of the silent treatment. He was grounded, frequently sent to his room for answering back, and refused contact with anyone outside of school hours._

_Callen would complain about the way he was treated to his social worker during the initial daily visits. His placement was constantly reviewed with the foster parents, who trivialised the events and re-iterated their best intentions for the troubled child. They never denied the accusations Callen made, but cleverly downplayed them and with Callen's history of lies and embellishing the truth, he was not believed. He threatened his social worker that he would run away if he wasn't removed; the Campbell's then drove him to and from school and made sure doors and windows were locked at night._

_Within a month the Campbell's had systematically eroded all feelings of worth and what little sense of identity Callen had. There were subtle digs that he wasn't worthy of being adopted, that no-one could ever love him – that not even his own mother had wanted to keep him. The Campbell's extended family would visit every weekend and conversations would over-exaggerate their familial bond, serving to underline the fact that Callen did not belong. At home, he became silent and withdrawn, powerless against a family whose end game he could not begin to fathom. His sleep became disrupted with nightmares where he woke up screaming or sobbing. When no-one came to comfort him, he moved his pillow and blankets to the corner of his room and curled up tight. The foetal position in which Maria Campbell found him in the mornings following his nightmares, was the only illustration at home of his increasingly regressive state of mind._

_By contrast Callen attempted to assert his power at school by arguing with the teachers and answering back. However he was no longer attempting to undermine their authority. He reacted aggressively to other children through verbal and physical intimidation. His school work suffered and he frequently found himself in detention. After school detention was the only part of the day Callen enjoyed as it meant he would not have to spend as much time at home. _

_As a result his health also suffered. The emotional abuse and his poor sleep patterns manifested itself physically and in his fifth week of living with the Campbell's, he developed an un-diagnosed illness. High temperatures, the shakes and nausea lasted for four days before Ethan Campbell eventually drove Callen to the local ER. Barely conscious, Callen heard Ethan telling the doctor he was an orphaned child they'd just housed and there was no medical history for him. He had closed his eyes and allowed his mind to drift away..._

_In public, the Campbell's played the caring foster parents and visited Callen every evening. Ethan advised the medical staff that the boy's behaviour had changed over recent weeks and he wondered whether the illness was psychosomatic. The doctor had contacted the social care team and long discussions had taken place as they had studied Callen's file. The conclusion was that his illness was mental, and merely a physical manifestation of the trauma they believed he experienced as a young child. It was well documented that Callen had no recollection of any early childhood memories and that nightmares had regularly plagued him. With his temperature and nausea under control, Callen was returned home to the Campbell's and ordered to bed rest for a week until he was strong enough to return to school. _

_The first week of rest went surprisingly smoothly for Callen. The Campbell's were attentive and caring and Johnny was kept out of sight. Maria had read him stories, they had watched TV together when Ethan was at work and Johnny at school, she made him whatever he wanted to eat and stopped referring to him as 'that boy'. In his weakened state, Callen had allowed himself to be cared for and secretly wondered if they were now on a good path for the future. Ethan had given him some help with his school work and he returned to school as planned. Callen's behaviour changed again. He was less aggressive and quieter, but his previous reputation meant that when others caused trouble, he was blamed. Generally though, family and school life was settling down nicely. _

_Just over a week later, Callen was surprised to be removed from the Campbell's, and at their own request, citing him as too challenging a child; one that was 'non compliant' with their way of life. They reported he had made no effort to belong and had caused emotional and physical damage to their only child. The local school had also complained to the Campbell's and social services over the disruptive and aggressive attitude their foster child displayed and whilst he was in hospital, several parents had visited the family to illustrate the damage Callen had inflicted on their children._

_Confusion had reigned in Callen's mind as he tried to make sense of his spell at the Campbell's. They had clearly wanted him at first, and then essentially broken him, only to build up his feelings of being wanted, of hope. They had connected and he had spent the last two weeks bonding with his foster mom and dad. He had not misbehaved, been rude or answered back and yet his life was once again being ripped apart. _

"Callen...Callen," Deeks called to his team leader who had again zoned out.

Callen moved his gaze to Deeks and focused. "Yeah?"

"You just spent five minutes staring into space. You good?"

"Yeah," Callen replied quietly. "I'm good."

"Some memories are better left buried..." Deeks felt it was a little late to impart this advice but he did so anyway.

"Huh," A smile tugged faintly at Callen's lips. "I don't think Nate would agree with you. Being eightsucked."

"Well so did being eleven," Deeks countered, pausing for a moment before changing the subject. "So Campbell knows you're NCIS, thinks I am too. She can't keep us here forever. She's not gonna send us mad so why hasn't she confronted us or killed us?"

"I don't know, but this just feels all wrong." Callen replied slowly.

"You're telling me. And what bit about being captured feels right?"

Callen pushed himself off the steps to stand in front of Deeks.

"What?" The LAPD Detective looked warily at Callen, unsure what was running through his mind.

Callen grabbed hold of Deeks' shoulder and moved his lips next to Deeks left ear and whispered urgently, "They can hear everything we're saying. At some point they're going to have to enter the basement to either kill us or separate us and to do that they'll have to turn the lights off and the noise up. They're likely to have night vision goggles so when it happens we're gonna have to move quickly. You hide behind the stairs, I'll take them at the door."

"They probably have infrared cameras and headsets all hooked up to a control centre. They'll know what we're doing before we do it." Deeks whispered back.

"We don't know that, but we have to take the fight to them."

"Agreed," Deeks murmured, "And maybe I can speed that up, just follow my lead..."

Deeks moved slightly away from Callen, catching his eyes before embracing him in a hug.

"Thank you for telling me," he said at normal volume. "I can't imagine how difficult it was for you to just say that. No child should have that type of abuse inflicted on them, especially one that was so damaged already."

Callen groaned inwardly at Deeks, who was certainly proving he knew how to push all the right buttons. He remained immobile as Deeks let go of him, before slowly raising his head to stare Deeks in the eyes. Goddamn, why did this feel like he had actually verbalised his earlier memories of his time at the Campbell's? He ran his fingers over his face and shook his head before turning away and walking back to once again study the collage of children's photos. Silence was the best option otherwise he might knock Deeks out. Besides which, silence was a well documented childhood response from him, one that Maria Campbell would expect. And anyway, he could always knock Deeks out later.

"With your evidence we can lock Campbell away for the rest of her life," Deeks said softly as he followed Callen, standing just behind him.

"I can't," Callen said, finding this act as easy as it was difficult. "You'll have to find someone else."

"You have to," Deeks said more forcefully. "It'll help heal you and help empower others to speak out."

"I just can't," Callen repeated, suddenly recalling the only occasion as a child when the authorities had actually believed him, he'd been unable to testify, to stand up in court and admit he was a victim.

"Callen," Deeks placed his hand on Callen's right shoulder, feeling him tense ever so slightly. "I _know_. I know what it's like. I testified against my father and the last time I ever saw him he was being led away in chains. I can help, we all can."

"I don't know," Callen said slowly, as he thought about what kind of payback he could exert on Deeks.

"You know you always feel you're a kindred spirit when you encounter other foster kids. How could you live with yourself if you did not do this?" Deeks knew he was taking a risk here, a calculated risk as to whether Callen would really lose control as opposed to pretending, and perhaps trigger Campbell or whoever was watching them to move up a gear.

Callen gritted his teeth as his heart raced. He understood only too well what Deeks hoped to accomplish and allowed his emotions to wash over him. He twisted suddenly to face Deeks, eyes blazoning a bright shade of ice-blue.

"Just leave it," Callen said angrily. "You can't force me to do anything."

"I'm not forcing you, Callen." Deeks replied calmly. "I'm just reminding you that you're one of the good guys, and you need to do what's right. You're not the victim..."

It was as though 'victim' was the trigger word, and even though Deeks was expecting it, he was caught slightly by surprise as Callen launched himself at him. The two wrestled to the floor, Callen pulling his punches as the lights went out and a continuous wail suddenly filled the airwaves.

Callen pushed himself off Deeks and blindly made his way to the top of the stairs, the loud wailing masking the din of him crashing in the banister and steps. He could sense that Deeks had also moved and hoped he had his bearings and was in place. There was no knowing when the bad guys would breach the room and Callen waited patiently; a patience that was rewarded five minutes later, when the door to the basement slowly opened.

_And in a room to the side of the house, Maria Campbell had observed with quiet interest. She had been joined by a younger man who stood grimly behind her chair. Both had been pleased with the recent dialogue between the two captives; confidences had been growing, only to be dashed as Deeks pushed Callen in to a psychological corner. Callen had broken his cool facade of control and attacked Deeks. Perfect timing, the pair had thought as they flicked a switch, turned out the lights and the noise on. With their captives disorientated, the timing was just right to split the pair of them up. And so commenced phase three._

* * *

**_Thank you for continuing to follow, favourite and review, they are all very much appreciated :)_**


	6. Chapter 6

Callen held his breath as the door slowly opened. With the wailing noise threatening to burst his eardrums and the interior of the basement shrouded in darkness, he knew the attackers would have the advantage of night vision equipment. He had to assume there was more than one man coming into the basement and just hoped they had not second guessed his plan. He stayed crouched low and smiled to himself as the open door allowed a lighter shade of darkness to permeate the top of the basement steps. He watched two pairs of legs pass him, and as the second pair started to descend, he moved to give a vicious kick that caused what he hoped was a domino effect.

Callen resisted the urge to shout for Deeks; there was no point as he would not be heard over the din and Callen realised the fatal flaw in his plan. Unless Deeks had a vantage point that allowed him to see the change in the shadows at the top of the stairs, Deeks would have no idea that the attackers had entered or been toppled to the ground. He swore to himself as he ran down the steps and paused at the bottom before landing a lucky kick where he anticipated at least one body had landed. He quickly knelt down and followed through with a punch before feeling his way to the top of the body and ripping of the night vision goggles and placing them over his own face.

The man in front of him was either unconscious or dead, blood seeping from a wound to the side of his head. One down, Callen thought as he scanned the room. The second man was stumbling away from the stairs towards the wall and Deeks was oblivious, crouching in the space behind the stairs as Callen had instructed. He had to move fast and convince Deeks to leave. As he approached him, Callen removed his goggles and placed them in front of Deeks hoping he would catch sight of Callen. As Deeks sensed movement in front of his face, he recoiled and lashed out with his fists. Callen anticipated his instinctive reaction and stepped back, still holding the night vision goggles to where he hoped Deeks was. Deeks caught a glimpse of Callen through the goggles and relaxed, moving forward to touch his forearm. Callen held one finger up and pointed to where he has last seen the second attacker. He then gestured to Deeks to give him back the goggles, and pointed for Deeks to go upstairs. His plan was to make sure the other man was out of action before following Deeks out. With a bit of luck they could both escape this basement, leaving their attackers locked behind them.

He secured the goggles over his eyes and saw Deeks feel his way to the bottom step and start climbing. Callen surveyed the room again. Man one was still down; man two was now aiming a gun at him. Callen barely had time to start moving to his left when he was hit in the shoulder and crashed heavily to the floor. He reached for his shoulder and his fingers touched the end of a dart. Grabbing it tightly with his right hand, he pulled it free and flung it to one side. He quickly jumped to his feet and staggered towards the stairs as his vision started to blur. Within seconds he was on the floor again as the second assailant came up behind him, punching him to the ground. As Callen fought to remain conscious, a sharp kick to the ribs had him gasping for breath before the world once again turned black.

* * *

Deeks reached the doorway to the basement, stopped and turned. In the darkness and with the cacophony of sound he could only sense that Callen was not running up the stairs behind him. He paused for a split second as he briefly contemplated heading back in to the abyss to rescue his team leader. The attempt would be futile as he would be deaf and blind against the attackers, and likely as not he could even end up attacking Callen himself. Instead, Deeks moved down the hallway, the light now more grey and dull and he quickly headed towards external door. Without hesitation he tried the door handle. Locked. No surprise there then, he thought as he raised his elbow to the door's embossed window panes and slammed it home, shattering the glass. He wondered why it was so much easier to break into houses than to break out as he kicked and shouldered the broken door apart.

Minutes later he was running through a vast expanse of grassland, praying that no one was watching his spectacular escape and praying double hard that there wasn't a sniper who now had him in the cross hairs of a high velocity rifle. It was another three hundred meters before he would reach tree cover, and beyond that he could see the shape of what could either be outbuildings or a small house. He willed himself to keep running, to keep the memento, for his arms to keep pumping and his legs to keep up. The grass was uneven and Deeks hurdled over random bricks and rubbish that littered his path. Two hundred meters and all he could hear was his own breath and his heart pounding in his ears. He stumbled slightly, arms flailing as he kept his balance. At this pace he could rival Usain Bolt, he thought as he strained to hear any other sounds above those of his own making. There was nothing and he resisted the temptation to turn around to see if anyone was chasing him. Instinct told him there was no-one, but he remembered the weird mind games from the house and kept running. One hundred meters. The trees were growing closer by the second and Deeks allowed himself to feel relieved as he realised how dense they quickly became. The outhouses were just to the left of the trees but he maintained his course and with thirty meters to go, forced himself to run faster. Twenty, ten and then finally he reached the relative safety of the trees. He kept moving into the dense undergrowth, low hanging branches scratching his arms and face, until he was sure he was safe. Only then did he slide behind a wide bush in the undergrowth, allowing himself time to catch his breath. He waited.

No one came. There was no thud from a bullet hitting bark, no cracking of twigs under careful footsteps and no heavy breathing from someone who had been chasing him for five hundred meters. Deeks checked himself; inside the house they had been closely monitored, presumably by the mad Maria Campbell. But she had at least several male accomplices at least one of whom was skilled in electronic surveillance and psychological torture techniques which led to the assumption he was trained either by the military or by one of the many federal agencies. Deeks considered the involvement of Campbell. He could not fathom why she had gone to such lengths to get Callen to face his past and remember the short amount of time he spent with her. If Callen had never complained to the authorities or if they ignored his accusations thirty plus years ago, then why would she be so worried about him now? Something just wasn't adding up.

Deeks judged he'd waited about five minutes before deciding to explore the outbuildings. He started to move cautiously towards the edge of the trees, following a rough track round the back of the buildings, some of which resembled little more than ramshackle barns. He thought to himself that he would be lucky if he found a tractor or an old push bike, and could just see himself hitching back to the Ops centre. He slowly peeked in the window of the largest building and a slow smile spread over his face.

"Awesome," he muttered aloud, a smile pulling at the corner of his lips. "My dreams have all come true."

Deeks continued to edge around the building until he reached the large double doors which stood open. Again, there was not a soul in sight. Deeks dashed inside, keeping to the shadowy edges until he reached the object of his desire. His smile broadened and he could control himself no longer.

"Ah," he sighed as he stroked the chrome bodywork of the Harley Davidson which stood in front of him. The keys were in the ignition and Deeks shook his head in wonder. "This is just awesome...come to papa" he continued as he straddled the bike and turned the keys.

The engine roared and Deeks allowed himself a few seconds to absorb the moment before exiting the outbuilding, taking the pathway that led away from the house. As soon as he could find the main road he would open the throttle and rescue plans could be made for Callen.

* * *

Callen lifted his head slowly and struggled to open his eyes. The action was rewarded with a sharp slap to his right cheek and his head swung to the left. With tremendous effort he raised his head again, squinting at the bright lights which shone on his face. Whatever he had been sedated with was still in his system and Callen felt groggy and confused. He could see blurred shapes in the shadows and guessed there were at least two people behind the spot lights. His arms were once again tied; this time behind the back of the chair in which he'd been placed. He tested the strength of the bonds by straining his wrists and forearms. Weak though he was from the drugs, he could barely move his hands and felt sure that his blood had already stopped circulating to his fingers. He shuffled his feet slightly and was surprised that they had not been tied. Rookie mistake, Callen thought as he waited for someone to talk. A well aimed kick could cause a lot of pain to the recipient. He stored that one away for an opportune moment he felt sure would arise later.

Callen raised his head, staring at the shadows of his captors in the background. People don't like silence; there is a natural human instinct to talk, to fill a gap, a void. A captive's natural instinct should be to ask where he was, why he had been taken and what they wanted. Callen however, remained silent. In the minutes that followed, his senses returned and his confusion diminished. The shadows became two distinct figures of men. From their stature and posture they were most likely military and in their thirties or forties. No sign of the woman, Maria Campbell. Maybe he'd made a mistake; maybe Campbell was merely some kind of hook to bait him and Deeks. Callen paused as he thought of Deeks, and he hoped he'd managed to escape.

The two men had turned their backs to Callen as they conferred on their next actions. Callen observed elbows moving and he felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. They had a weapon. Maybe a gun but more likely a knife...or possibly a needle filled with more drugs. Callen looked about him but could see no visible means of protecting himself or of escape. The two spotlights in front of him were essentially making him blind, save for the gap through which he could observe his captors. In terms of taking the fight to them, he could only kick someone with his untied legs if they stood directly in front of him. This was not good. Callen breathed in and out slowly to steady his heart-rate. He'd been in bad situations before and it looked like he was going to have to roll with the punches on this one – provided that's all he had coming.


	7. Chapter 7

Callen's captors separated and he lost them behind the spot lights. He stared dead ahead, waiting for a movement to appear in his peripheral vision. Nothing. He was starting to get bored of this game of silence and almost gave in to the temptation to initiate conversation. Almost. Callen had never done what was expected of him and he wasn't about to start now. So he remained silent, knowing that if he felt it was about time to start talking, his captors certainly did too. He would give them another ten minutes, tops, before they themselves gave in to the temptation to speak.

"We were told you were good, even as a child." A man's voice spoke a few minutes later and Callen quickly tried to pinpoint the accent; American, mid-Western, slightly nasal. "We know how you lived, how you survived and what scared and scarred you as a child."

Callen remained focused on the space between the spot lights. He didn't consider for one moment the man could do anything more than make guesses. He'd only spent a short time with the Campbell's and soon after he'd realised that no-one believed or wanted to believe him.

"And we know how you've survived since, how you still survive. We know about those you've hurt, damaged and killed with your bare hands, Agent Callen." As the man spoke his voice became more venomous, the hatred clear as he spat out Callen's name.

At least he could fathom the end game now. Maria Campbell had most likely been used to find out about him, maybe find some weaknesses. His attackers wanted revenge. Revenge for some perceived wrong he had committed to them, their friends, family or cause, over the last twenty years or so of his professional life. Revenge and retribution. They would inflict on him the pain they had felt so acutely and maybe still did. Callen felt his heart beat a little faster as he sensed movement to his right side. He kept his breathing steady and he steeled himself for a volley of punches or possible slashes from a knife.

Instead he felt a sharp prick as a needle pierced his upper arm. Callen resisted the urge to gasp and forced himself to remain focused, staring straight ahead as he felt the liquid seep into his veins, coursing through his body. It was a warm sensation, similar to an anaesthetic. His eyes widened slightly with the realisation that he'd most likely been given a barbiturate, something like Sodium Pentothal which certain countries, in certain times, had been used as a truth serum. They don't work, they're not reliable so which truth shall I give them, Callen thought to himself. Which I is I? He smiled slightly as he remembered a conversation he'd had with Hetty several years ago, when he'd considered breaking his obsolete cover of Jason Tedrow to finally be honest with a woman, in an effort to get her to be honest with him. Callen's thoughts were beginning to wander and his steady stare was interrupted with blackness as one of the men stood in front of him. He blinked and tried to re-focus.

"Agent Callen, we know you've worked with the DEA, FBI, CIA, the military and private contractors. You're currently with NCIS. There are months in your history when you have disappeared completely. You're going to fill in those blanks and reveal all those classified missions, the assassinations and those dirty secrets the American Government and the CIA love so much. Now, tell me where you were in the summer of 2002."

They want me to turn traitor, Callen thought. No. Never.

"Summer 2002 I was in hell." He said quietly, before adding in a louder voice. "You can go to hell."

He was rewarded with a vicious punch to the jaw which split his bottom lip open again. He spat out blood in front of him carefully aiming for his captors black boots, for which he received a sharp jab to his kidneys, causing him to fold over to catch his breath.

"Tell me about your 2002 summer of hell," the man's voice said softly. "Where was this hell?"

Callen thought hard and fast. He'd spent four months working with a Black Ops team in the Middle East; a joint CIA-military mission that was highly classified and was likely to never be de-classified. Summer 2002? Hell? Callen lifted his head, feeling a little intoxicated and thought about summers in hell.

He had spent plenty of them, most of which were now either repressed memories or ones he'd compartmentalised - sectioned away so he could move on to the next challenge, the next mission, the next chapter of his life. They were areas of his life he never talked about; however the barbiturate he'd been given acted in a similar way to alcohol, lessening inhibitions and loosened the tongue.

"Who were you working for in the summer of 2002?" One of the men asked directly.

"I wasn't working for anyone, I was working for myself." Callen replied.

"Were you contracted by the Government?" The closed question required a yes or no answer.

"I don't like working for bureaucrats or politicians or for anyone really. It's always better when you don't have to answer to anyone else but yourself. I liked working for myself. I should've done it more. Who do you work for?"

"So you weren't contracted by the Government then, what about the military?"

"I've never served in the military. They wanted me to when I left school and I nearly signed up, but you know what?" Callen squinted in the lights as he rambled and slurred his words slightly, trying to involve his captors in his monologue. They did not respond so Callen continued. "You know what? There are too many people telling you what to do, how to think. They tried to tell me I had to join so I didn't. Don't get me wrong, have great respect for the military but that would have been my biggest mistake if I had." He paused before saying, "What were you asking?"

"Did the US Military contract your services in the summer of 2002?"

"No and I have never worked for the US military. Didn't I just tell you that?" Callen asked as he turned his head slightly towards the voice. The man moved swiftly to Callen's side and again landed a right hook that almost had him and his chair tipping over.

"Look you asked me a question and I answered, I was working for myself in 2002. I quit my job in the winter and no-one really wanted to employ me. I was unempoy...I was unempoble..." Callen stopped to think how the hell he should pronounce 'unemployable' before giving up.

The two men looked at each other. They'd been warned that the so-called 'truth serum' was not always effective and that they may have to sift through a torrent of drivel before they would uncover the information they were seeking. They had also been warned that Callen was a seasoned agent and a practiced liar, and that other means may be necessary to extract the information they wanted.

"That was one cold winter," Callen continued, slowing down the pace of his sentences in order to think and formulate his words. "I much prefer the California summers, especially if I'm not working."

"So were you working in summer 2002?"

"Jeez don't you guys listen. I was working for myself then." Callen started to get agitated.

"Were you in the Middle East?" One man asked.

"Yeah, travelling around the Middle East."

"Summer 2002 in the Middle East was post 9/11," The man interrupted again. "Very few Americans could travel freely around countries like Iraq, Iran, Syria, Lebanon, and Afghanistan. What were you doing there?"

Callen squeezed his eyes shut in confusion and tried to order his thoughts. Were these guys stupid or just deaf? Had he not told them repeatedly that he was working for himself? Maybe he should start lying and tell them what they wanted to hear?

"I was working for myself and had four months to gather intelligence on human rights violations. A bit like my last job really, now I think of it but that was cold – cold in every sense of the word. The weather was cold and the people were even colder," Callen shuddered as he recalled his winter undercover in Uzbekistan. "The Middle East was hot, but at night the temperature dropped like you wouldn't believe. Most of my work was done at night."

"Why was your work done at night?"

Callen shook his head and resisted the urge to laugh. He attempted to look at the men and said, "Because it was too hot during the day."

His response was met with an audible sigh and Callen braced himself for another punch that didn't arrive. The two men again shared a glance and persevered through a mental list of topics they had prepared earlier.

"Tell me about 'extraordinary rendition'."

"You want an extraordinary rendition of what?" Callen replied belligerently and this time was rewarded with punch that cut his eyebrow. Callen blinked as blood trickled into his eye, blurring his vision slightly and vaguely wondered why his cut eye didn't hurt much.

"You are a Federal Agent, Callen. You have worked with numerous agencies. You know what 'extraordinary rendition' is."

"Well if _you_ know, that _I_ know, why the hell are you asking me?" Callen spoke slowly and deliberately, however his words were still slurring slightly and his tone was now laced with anger.

"This isn't working," one man said to the other. "Give him another shot."

The second man moved in and out of Callen's vision and a minute later came to his left side and slowly injected more Sodium Pentothal into his veins. With his hands tied behind him there was little he could do and within seconds of the drug entering his system Callen felt his head reel. It was as though he'd just downed dozens of Tequila shots.

"Tell me about the CIAs extraordinary rendition in the Middle East in summer 2002." The man asked in a friendly voice.

"I can't," Callen said, thinking his head felt as though it was filling with cotton wool.

"Yes you can, we're all friends here," the voice coaxed from the darkness.

"I can't. I was working on crimes against Human Rights, gathering evidence. I was working for myself, by myself, on my own. I liked being on my own, no one to let you down or betray you. I've been let down so many times... Sometimes I don't know who to trust or why." Callen shook his head slightly to clear the fuzziness. He continued, with his words running into each other. "The CIA arranged extraordinary renditions to countries like Syria for torture of terrorists. But some weren't terrorists and that was why I was there." Callen looked up and smiled triumphantly as though he had revealed a great truth to himself, as well as his captors.

"I don't believe you," the man said carefully in the same smooth voice, hoping to lull Callen into believing he was in a safe environment.

"You calling me a liar?" The smile died from Callen's lips.

"I think you know many different versions of the truth. What do you know about Carlton Greene"

Callen wondered again which version of the truth he should tell them. He decided on the one he knew he had always felt most comfortable with; the outright lie. "I never heard of him. What do _you_ know about him?"

The man gave him a hard backhanded slap across his face, the impact causing Callen to turn his head sharply. He looked up at the man, his eyes defiant and his mind momentarily clear. "That didn't hurt. Y'know that's not a real good drug for torture..."

"What happened to Carlton Greene, Jed Cummins and Joshua Campbell?" The first man was losing his patience rapidly. He had not been in favour of using drugs and had been prepared for the long game of psychological damage, coupled with a bit of physical pain only where necessary. And with certain insight received in to this man's past, he had been certain short cuts could have been made to secure the information and confession that had been requested.

"I er, er. Um..." Callen closed his eyes as a wave of tiredness washed over him. He knew those names, but he couldn't reveal the truth about his involvement with their fate. He took several long, slow breaths before another sharp slap to his face brought him round suddenly, breaking his slow train of thought. "I remember..." he said as he forced his eyes open, looking at the man stood to one side, the one that kept hitting him.

The two men listened intently as Callen started to talk, occasionally glancing at each other as if to check they believed what they were hearing. His sentences were mixed up and timelines jumped back and forth. A variety of characters entered his narrative, names which meant nothing to the two men. He spoke of Maria and Ethan Campbell and their son Johnny, mixing them up with Joshua Campbell. Footballers and basketball players swapped places with Carlton Greene and Jed Cummins, and events took place in American, African and Australian deserts, as well as the Middle East. Callen slurred words together and even created a few new ones, and his captors had to interrupt more than once to question what he actually said.

Callen was just about lucid enough to sense his captor's reactions rather than see them, for both men had returned to stand behind the harsh spot lights and in the shadows of the room. Within ten minutes the men had obtained the information required and the first man left the room. The second man moved behind the left spotlight and switched it off before quickly repeating the action with the one to the right. The sudden darkness caused a kaleidoscope of light to appear in front of Callen's eyes and as he blinked heavily, he could still see the remains of the spot lights behind his eyelids. He could also see a red dot in the distance and attempted to concentrate his mind on this, failing to grasp at its significance, as he yet again felt the needle pierce his skin. Liquid from the syringe slowly flooded his veins and his vision blurred from the outside in as he lost consciousness for the third time in less than twenty four hours.

* * *

**Thank you again to everyone who is reading, reviewing, favouriting and following this story - they are all much appreciated, especially the reviews! For those missing Deeks and the rest of the team - your patience will be rewarded soon! And apologies to those who are of the camp that Callen was in the military - for the purposes of this story he has never officially served but has worked closely with them on a number of occasions. **


	8. Chapter 8

In the far distance a noise sounded, no it was more than just one noise, one sound...It was a dull cacophony of sounds that faded in and out, that ebbed and flowed like the tide. There were repetitive blasts, followed by the sharp, clipped bark of voices before the sounds yet again became lost in the distance and silence prevailed. The sounds had temporarily brought Callen round yet as they had faded, he himself had slipped back to an unconscious state.

The next time Callen opened his eyes he recoiled in alarm. Strange faces were focused on him and a mask was being fastened over his face. He turned his head left and right to remove it, before realising his hands were free. Within seconds he was ripping of the mask with one hand and flailing at the faces in front of him with the other.

"G, G," a familiar voice said in concern. "It's Ok, these are the paramedics, they're just trying to help you."

"What?" Callen continued pulling the mask off his face as he looked around him, recognising the anxious faces of Sam, Kensi and Deeks peering over the shoulders of the paramedics who were still attempting to examine him.

"It's OK, you were pumped full of drugs and out for the count. The medics just brought you round and need to check you're good, so let them do their job." Sam's eyes reflected the concern which still sounded in his voice.

"What?" Callen repeated. "What happened?"

His team exchanged a look and Sam gently moved a medic out of Callen's face. "How much do you remember?"

Callen shook his head as he tried to recall recent events. "I don't know..."

The medic moved to Callen's side, slid up his sleeve and slipped on a blood pressure monitor. Callen looked at him and then back at Sam and up to Kensi and Deeks.

"Do you remember we were held captive together?" Deeks asked him cautiously.

"Photos," Callen replied as the monitor bleeped and the cuff was removed from his arm. He was starting to feel more lucid but there seemed to be a gap in his recent memories that already had him greatly worried. "I remember photos on a wall and then it went dark. I can't remember anything else."

The medic shone a penlight in to Callen's eyes, checking his pupils were equal and reactive before he spoke to both Callen and his team. "From cursory examinations and the bottles found here, it looks like you've been given several doses of Sodium Pentothal which is a short acting barbiturate. It's been used as an anaesthetic, to knock you out, but the doses were low enough for you to come round quickly. You've been lucky, in larger quantities you could have been unconscious for up to twenty six hours."

"Sodium Pentothal, that's the same as Thiopental." Sam stated to the medic. "That's also used as a truth serum."

"Only if you believe what you see in the movies," the medic replied. "It doesn't make people tell the truth. Barbiturates generally decrease the higher cortical brain function which really just makes people more willing to talk. But it can produce false memories, fantasies. Pretty much the same as talking to someone intoxicated. They could become brutally honest, fantasise about events or mix up the two."

"The CIA have used it; the KGB, India's Central Bureau of Intelligence." Callen added, a worried look flashing across his face. "It's even been approved by Judges in here in America. And it produces short term memory loss. Guys, the last thing I remember is the basement door slamming shut and the lights going out."

"Literally," Deeks added to clarify. "The door locked and the lights went out just as we were about to leave."

Callen made to stand up, but was firmly pushed down by both Sam and the medic.

"We need to find out who did this and what I said to them," Callen's eyes flashed with anger, hiding an embarrassment that he could potentially have revealed information about the numerous classified operations he'd been involved with over the years. He recalled the picture of Deeks and his team on the wall of the basement and felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. He could also have blown the cover of the entire NCIS Special Projects office in Los Angeles.

"You need to get fully checked out before you can do anything," the medic advised Callen, giving both him and his team a stern look.

"But I could have blown everything. NCIS could be compromised because of what I said."

"That is highly unlikely," Sam reassured Callen. "It's not a 'truth drug' and has been discounted by scientists. And we've already found evidence that this whole house was rigged with visual and audio equipment."

"You don't know for sure what I've said," Callen again attempted to stand, and again was pushed down, this time by the medic and Deeks.

"Look, just go with the medics Callen," Deeks said. "They can check you over and then release you back to us."

"If it's a fast acting anaesthetic, like they use for day ops, then once you've fully checked Callen over we can keep an eye on him." Kensi appealed to the medic, hoping that a female voice would reassure him that they could take care of their colleague properly.

"As long as we can fully check him out and if he's fine then we won't admit him to hospital, but I'll need to give you instructions for his care and what to look out for with any side effects of the drugs." The medic looked warily at the three team members, who acquiesced. Callen meanwhile, just glowered at them all and resisted the temptation to remind them that he was still there. But at least it meant he would be operational again within hours rather than days.

* * *

With Callen being checked over in the ambulance, the rest of the team returned to the building's annexe to the rear of the house. It had not been discovered earlier by Callen and Deeks as there was no internal doorway connecting the annexe to the house. The main wall was covered with monitors, each with a visual on all the rooms in the house, including the basement and the room where Callen had been found. There was a large mixing desk in front of the monitors and unplugged cables indicating where a laptop had once been present. And lying in an office chair, slightly back from the desk, was the body of Maria Campbell.

"I think it's safe to assume that everything Callen and I said and did was recorded." Deeks stated the obvious to break the silence. "And I guess what Callen revealed under the drugs wasn't meant for her ears." He pointed at the figure of the elderly woman, body slumped in the chair, and head flopped backwards, her neck gaping like a wide red smile.

"Well her throat was slit from behind, so she probably didn't even know it was coming. But what the hell was Maria Campbell doing involved in such an operation? This has the marks of military or federal training all over it." Sam observed the scene in front of him and shared the concern Callen had shown earlier. Whatever was said about truth serums, there was always a chance that secrets _could_ be revealed. And Callen undoubtedly had more than his share of secrets.

"Well it's either that or someone's watched too many episodes of Homeland," Deeks added to lighten the situation. He had filled the team in on Maria Campbell and the connections that both he and Callen had with her. Although Callen had revealed very little to him, he in turn had only revealed the very basics to the others. "Has Eric found a connection between Campbell and the military?"

"Not yet, we'll give him another five and then check in with him again," Sam replied.

"Well unless the techs can find anything left in this equipment then whatever Callen might have revealed could now be on the black market, open for bidding." Kensi said, turning to Deeks. "So what did you two talk about?"

"This and that, y'know," Deeks replied evasively before breaking into a broad smile. "We did think about becoming partners, ditching you two and becoming our own dynamic duo. A bit like Holmes and Watson."

"Huh," snorted Sam, smiling back at Deeks at the absurdity of that proposition. "Callen got a bump on the head _before _that, right?"

"Yeah," Deeks said, thinking fast to side-step the friendly-fire that Sam was about to send his way. "But he did liken me to Sherlock Holmes, with my awesome powers of deduction. And he did save my ass, said it made a pleasant change to do the saving for once, rather than you having to save his..."

"That's just stupid," Sam retorted. "I still had to come here and rescue him. Maybe you do both deserve to be partners, sounds like you're both as stupid as each other." He smiled again as he turned to leave the room. "Let's go explore this basement, partner," he said to Kensi.

"With pleasure, partner," Kensi smiled sweetly at Sam, who waved his arm in front of him to allow the lady to go first. "And thank you kindly, sir."

"What? No, no, I was only joking about the whole partner swapping thing." Deeks mouth and mind went in to overdrive. "No, that sounded so wrong, partner swapping – sounds like swinging. Hey guys, that's not what I meant..."

* * *

The basement was now flooded with light and people as a CSI team dusted for prints and the medical examiner performed a preliminary examination of the man Callen had killed.

"What do we have?" Sam asked the M.E. as he reached the bottom of the basement steps.

"Looks like he died with a blow to the head, most likely caused by a fall down the stairs," the M.E. responded, barely looking up from his work. The team took the hint and left him to his job.

"Well that makes sense," Deeks added as he took one last look at the body at the bottom of the steps and moved to the collage of photos, which had been his and Callen's main focus earlier in the day.

"So these are the photos?" Kensi asked as she scanned the wall. "Ooh, look at you all suited up." Kensi moved to stand in front of the newspaper clipping of Deeks as public defender.

"And look at all four of us," Sam added as he studied the photo of the team at a crime scene. "Deeks is the only one that Campbell could have recognised. But how the hell did she make the connection to Callen? I mean how can you tell that an eight year old child you once knew for a few months is the same person as someone now in their forties?"

"Maybe she overheard us talking?" Kensi offered a solution. "I mean Callen is standing away from us so maybe one of us shouted his name and something clicked?"

"But why all this?" Sam gestured about him. "Who was she working with or for?"

At that moment, Sam's cell rang. He answered it on loudspeaker. "Eric, what y'got for us?"

"I've found it, the connection between Maria Campbell and the military. Turns out she had a nephew, Joshua Campbell who served in Afghanistan in 2002. He disappeared with two of his team during that summer - a Jed Cummins and a Carlton Greene. Greene and Cummins were practicing Muslims and reports from their CO suggest there were concerns their beliefs were bordering on radical."

"So what happened to them?" Sam asked.

"They all went AWOL, but a redacted CIA report seems to indicate they joined up with a Taliban stronghold on the Afghan – Pakistani border."

"Several pages in," Nell added, "it appears that our missing men re-appeared six weeks after that in Iraq where their activities seem to have been closely monitored. There is another gap in the timeline, from about July to September, when they surface again in Syria only to be flown to Guantanamo Bay. So reading between the lines, I would say the CIA infiltrated the stronghold and a black ops team later arranged for extraordinary rendition to Syria, probably for torture, before sending them to Gitmo."

"And where are they now?" Kensi asked.

"Greene and Cummins are still in Gitmo, but Campbell died in Syria." Nell replied.

"So there's our link to Maria Campbell, and her motive." Deeks said. "But it still doesn't explain all this."

"Deeks," Eric interrupted. "I don't know how much you looked in to the Campbell's family life when you defended her, but it seems that she had an illegitimate son forty seven years ago, before she got married. The son's name is Damian Dresden and yes you've guessed it, he served as a Marine until 1996, when transferred to their Intelligence Unit. He was honourably discharged in 2001 when he joined our friends at Langley."

"And there is the link to all this," Deeks said. "Thanks Eric."

"Eric, Nell can you find out which areas Dresden was involved with at the CIA, and if he ever crossed paths with Callen?" Kensi asked.

"On it," Eric replied. Sam terminated the call and the team looked at each other.

"So I guess Callen was working for the CIA out in the Middle East in 2002?" Kensi asked the question that was in the back of everyone's mind.

"It would make sense," Sam added. "Callen infiltrated the cell, accompanied them to Iraq and then arranged for their rendition to Syria."

"There must have been a leak or a loophole if Dresden made the connection between the undercover operation involving Callen and his cousin in 2002, and his then mother." Kensi thought out loud. "Or maybe he was directly involved from the Agency end?"

"Well my involvement as lawyer could have prompted Maria to tell her son about her foster kids, or maybe she was in touch with Dresden when she was fostering. And Callen was her first foster child..." Deeks said.

"How do you know Callen was the first?" Sam asked curiously.

"He told me," Deeks said holding Sam's stare, aware the he might have just eroded a tiny bit of the _something_ that Sam had with Callen.

"Yeah," Sam continued, feeling his heart wrench slightly that Callen had confided in Deeks rather than himself. He mentally shook himself free of the thought as he remembered that Callen talking about his childhood at all could only be good for him, no matter who is was with. "Well, I guess whatever you have with kids, the first is always memorable. Even when it comes to abusing them."

"From what I remember of Maria Campbell, she was a very clever manipulator of people. She had a degree in child psychology." Deeks said. "I just never saw it at the time..."

"Great," Sam sighed. "Let's just hope her illegitimate son hasn't inherited her gift for mind games," The team took a final look around before heading out of the basement to make sure Callen had been passed fit by the medics.

* * *

Thank you all again for continuing to read, review and enjoy this story - it's all so much appreciated.


	9. Chapter 9

The drive back through the Los Angeles traffic was quiet and uneventful. Sam filled Callen in the connections made between Maria Campbell; her nephew who'd been targeted as a radical Muslim in 2002, and her illegitimate son who had left the Marines to join the CIA. He added the team's hypothesis that Damian Dresden was either involved with the CIA operation or had acquired some highly confidential information about the events surrounding his cousin in 2002 that had Callen's name associated with it. Callen himself had remained unresponsive, except to add an "uh ha" here and there. Sam frequently broke his concentration from the road ahead to look at Callen, checking he was OK and that he really didn't need to go to hospital for further tests.

Callen rested his elbow on the inside of the car window and his rested his chin in his hand. The barbiturates had pretty much exited his system now. He felt a little tired but the thought that he may have divulged state secrets and compromised his friends and colleagues worried him greatly. He stared out the window in silence for most of the journey. The house where he and Deeks had been held was on a quiet road in Topanga; the nearest neighbours about five miles away. He watched the trees go by; they passed multi-million dollar mansions in areas that gradually became more urban and compact before reaching the main roads and traffic as they moved towards central LA. He heard and understood the updates Sam provided on Campbell, but he still had no recollection of anything other than the photos on the wall of the basement. He couldn't even recall how much he had told Deeks about his time with that family, let alone what he could potentially have revealed about the black ops he was involved with in 2002. Although occurrences such as the extraordinary renditions had been gradually leaked in to the public domain, the operations themselves and those involved were still highly classified and likely to remain so for a long time. He may not have been with the CIA by mid 2002, but his freelance status meant he was attached to the military and his CIA connections ensured he was free to operate using whatever means necessary.

"G," Sam yelled out for the third time, finally getting a reaction from his partner.

"Sorry, yeah?" Callen replied, having eventually heard Sam.

"Answer the phone," Sam asked staring intently at Callen, looking for signs as to what might be running through his mind. "It's Eric."

"Eric, what's up?" Callen asked as he answered Sam's cell and placed it on loud speaker so they could both hear.

"We think we've found Dresden. A man matching his description was reported to the LAPD for causing a disturbance in East LA. He was arguing with another man. We pulled traffic cam images and the second man has been identified as Jack Chilton, a former Marine with their intelligence arm."

"Let me guess, they served together," Callen said.

"Indeed, your guess would be correct. The footage shows them fighting, with Dresden storming off and Chilton following. By the time the police turned up they were gone." Eric said.

"They can't have just disappeared," Sam commented.

"We were able to track them to an abandoned warehouse two blocks away. I'm sending the address to your cells now. The warehouse is owned by a Brandon Chilton, who is Jack's father but records show that it's not been used for about five years." Nell added.

"What was it used for?" Callen asked, curious as to why two men who were so familiar with high tech surveillance equipment would be holed up in an abandoned warehouse.

"Previously a computer repair workshop," Eric said.

"So presumably it's pretty much set up for them to view, edit and copy footage from earlier." Sam said. "We'd better get there fast."

"Eric, send the GPS coordinates to Kensi and Deeks, tell them we'll meet them there," Callen ordered as Sam changed direction and headed for East Los Angeles.

* * *

The team reconvened a block away from the warehouse having surveyed the area first. The building was set back on a side road, with an expanse of light grey concrete for a forecourt. Tall metal fences surrounded the site, however years of vandalism had seen gaps clipped in the fence at various intervals and the gates were swinging on their hinges. A large loading bay door was securely fastened with a shiny new lock. The window panes were still intact and covered with thick mesh; a first floor window had been recently broken and shards of glass lay on the floor underneath it. With the exception of the new lock, there was nothing to indicate the building was anything other than abandoned. No cars were at the front or rear and no surveillance cameras were visible. Eric and Nell had confirmed that both men were still inside; the takedown should be easy.

The team donned their Kevlar vests and secured leg holsters, checking their weapons were ready. To the right of the loading bay was a side door and with the lock picked, Sam and Callen prepared to enter. There was another door to the rear of the building and Kensi and Deeks circled round to enter from the back and repeated their team-mates actions. Upon Sam's count of three the team breached the warehouse and announced themselves as Federal Agents. The pairs moved swiftly and efficiently throughout the building, clearing front offices and rear cubbyholes and soon reached the main floor of the warehouse.

Dresden and Chilton were at a large table that sat flush against a wall to the far left. Two monitors sat in front of them and audio and visual mixing equipment covered the desk. Both men were intently focused on the screens in front of them and with large headphones covering their ears. Dresden was glancing between the images and scribbling notes on a pad in front of him. Chilton appeared to be engrossed in the editing process, as he turned dials, scanned footage and was pausing and cutting scenes together. Kensi and Deeks were the closest to them as they approached quietly and quickly from behind. Kensi resisted the urge to concentrate on the footage of Callen under the influence of truth serum as she wondered whether Chilton was cutting together his own, more damning version of whatever Callen may have revealed whilst held captive.

Glancing round to ascertain the position of Callen and Sam, Kensi gave a brief nod to Deeks. All four could see that Chilton and Dresden's fire-arms had been thrown aside and now lay out of reach. There was no way of telling whether they had any other weapons concealed about their person. The assumption could be made that they were unarmed, however no sensible law enforcement officer ever made that assumption and so the team approached with caution, weapons trained on their targets.

Kensi and Sam reached the backs of the two men and poked the guns in their backs and again shouted 'Federal Agents'. The two men instantly tensed and slowly raised their arms in the universal gesture of surrender. For once the takedown was as easy as it should have been; Dresden and Chilton had never even been aware the safe house had been compromised.

As Deeks and Sam zip tied the men's wrists together, Callen stood in front of them, looking first at Chilton, then Dresden and back to Chilton. Neither man looked familiar to him, yet he had clearly seen himself with them on the monitors just now. Chilton had moved in to shot and punched Callen in the face. The audio was still running through the head-phones and the movement of Callen lips on the screen indicated he was still talking. Kensi smiled as she read was he said.

Chilton studied Callen, studying them both and started laughing. "You don't remember a thing do you? Shame you didn't arrive here an hour or so later. You'd have found us but not the tapes. You talked, and it was so sweet." Chilton emphasised the word 'sweet', and shook his head at the futility of his own situation.

Callen looked at the footage still running on the monitors, allowing his anger and frustration to surface as he pulled back his right arm and swung at Chilton, knocking him to the ground and bloodying his nose.

"Callen," said Kensi, slight concern in her voice that Callen might continue to attack Chilton. "From what I've just read, you gave them a lot of smart ass answers so you might be Ok."

"Yeah, you carry on thinking that," Dresden piped up. "You killed my cousin, destroyed my mother's life and killed my half brother. You revealed top secrets about CIA missions, black ops, extraordinary renditions and gave up secrets about your entire team. And that is not the only copy of the raw footage out there. I will destroy you, _Agent G Callen._" Dresden spat out Callen's name, hatred thick in his voice and his eyes blazing.

"You can join the back of that queue, but you're barely worthy of joining it." Callen said as he stood in front of Dresden and then lowered his voice so no one else could hear. "Your mother destroyed me when I was eight. She never saw me again after those two months so I think someone is feeding you lies." Callen raised his voice to a conversational level. "Oh, and I guess that Chilton forgot to mention that he slit your mother's throat before you left the house?" Callen watched as the colour drained from Dresden's face. "Thought so. You haven't got more copies of that footage. And I think your time would be better spent working out how you can destroy Chilton, don't you?"

As Callen abruptly walked away from the pair of them, he could hear Dresden kick and make contact with Chilton before they were led away to separate cars to be taken to the boatshed for interrogation. Callen allowed himself a small smile of consolation that if nothing else, getting answers out of Dresden would now be a piece of cake.

Chilton and Dresden were placed in separate interrogation rooms in the boatshed and the team congregated in the main area to discuss the interviews. Due to their personal and direct involvement, Callen and Deeks could not be a part of the process, so it was down to Sam and Kensi to work the prisoners. Dresden should be the easiest now he was in emotional turmoil with the news that his mother had been murdered by Chilton. Chilton would be the challenge as Nell and Eric were still gathering intelligence about this man.

"See," Deeks said to Sam triumphantly. "I told you we'd be swapping partners – I mean changing partners soon." He corrected himself quickly before Kensi could pick him up on making deliberate innuendos.

"Wait," Callen said turning to Deeks. "You told Sam that you and I were partnering up?"

"He sure did," Sam added with a broad smile. "Said you were getting fed up with not having a partner to save. So I agreed, Deeks' ass needs saving even more than yours does. You'll work well together."

"I do not need saving." Callen replied indignantly.

"And nor do I." Deeks piped up, keen not to be left out of the equation.

"Though I'm not sure what'll happen when you need saving," Sam pointed to Callen.

"I do not need saving," Callen repeated. "Anyway, you'll still be around." Callen added with a smile as the large screen in front of them flashed up with a live picture of Hetty.

"Thank you Hetty," Kensi said quickly to the screen.

"For what, Miss Blye?" Hetty asked calmly.

"For interrupting the argument about whose ass needs saving the most." Kensi replied, raising her eyebrows in exasperation.

"Well, there's no contest really. It's Mr Callen of course." Hetty said without a hint of a smile.

"Oh c'mon Hetty," Callen strongly protested, adamant that he was not the one and only member of the team that constantly found himself in trouble and in need of rescuing.

"And as Miss Blye and Mr Hanna are more than capable of taking care of themselves - note, Mr Callen, Mr Deeks, they managed _not_ to get themselves captured – they will be conducting the interviews as you two need to return to the Mission."

"But all we were going to do was observe from here." Callen protested again.

"That may as well be, however there is some footage which needs to be viewed with you both present. Some of it may be of a..." Hetty paused for dramatic effect, "...delicate nature."

Callen and Deeks looked at each other in slight apprehension. Deeks remembered the scenes in the basement and was suddenly concerned that Callen would be mad at him for some of the stunts he had pulled. Callen was dreading what the footage would reveal; childhood secrets, professional secrets and God knows what else he had spilled whilst under the influence. He wished he shared Sam and Kensi's faith that truth serums did not work. He knew all about them of course, and had used them himself several times. If the 'victim' was suitable, the conditions right and clever wordings used – the drugs did sometimes work. One of the greatest risks though was the power of suggestion made through the questions being asked. The subject was prone to respond with what he or she thought the answers should be and he had no idea how good his captors were.

"Go on," Sam said as he read the looks of trepidation on his colleagues' faces. "Get outta here."

"It'll be fine," Kensi reassured them both with a smile.

"Yeah right," Deeks muttered as he turned to Callen and the two exited the boatshed.

* * *

**Thank you again for enjoying this story. Another 3 chapters after this one!**


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